Vae Victis

by Francis Mulhern

  “What’s this?” Sulpicius asked of Quintus.

  “I don’t know” came the reply.

  The Gauls strode purposefully to the river, within a hundred yards of the leading file of Romans, who dropped their spears into a defensive iron shield at the approach. The green cloaked man held up his hands and stopped, his head stretching as he seemed to be looking beyond the row of spears into the ranks of Romans.

  “I think he wants to speak to you” Lucius said through clenched teeth, his eyes boring into the back of Sulpicius’ head. The commander took a second to comprehend the words before stepping forwards, his armour flashing in the sunlight as he moved between the legions to the front. As he approached the Gauls the green cloaked man turned and spoke to the two men behind him, his words loud and fast but unintelligible. A sudden roar appeared from the Gauls, the blast of noise so loud that Sulpicius momentarily stopped his advance and flinched as he turned to see the Gallic army suddenly stand and shuffle into a long line which stretched menacingly right across the valley floor. Turning quickly to Tricostus he spat a command at him.

  “Lengthen the lines” he said quickly. “Look they are spreading their men, they wish to get behind us.” His eyes darted around the men behind him and landed on Manlius. “Get the reserves on the right flank, use that hill” he said quickly as he turned back to the green cloaked figure who was beckoning him forward. The Gauls had gone quiet, the sudden silence causing a sense of foreboding to fall over the Romans and the commander glanced nervously at his defensive position. Sulpicius saw many of the front lines nodding their heads in prayer, one or two calling to their Centurions to ask if the augury had been good. “Furius” he said the words with venom as Lucius saluted. “Go with Manlius. Take the hill and use it for the reserves, pull the men closer together and form a line that matches that of the Gauls” he ordered.

  Lucius stared at him momentarily. “Sir” his eyes twitched across to the Gallic army. “If we thin the lines, we lose the strength of the phalanx. I suggest we keep the ground towards the hill and move away from the river. There is little space there for them to out-flank us and we will still maintain the strength of the formations and can use the higher ground to maintain order and control. If we thin the lines it will be easier for their speed to crash through the lines. Surely…”

  “Do as I order” Sulpicius spat, his furrowed brows and snarling teeth staring back at Lucius. He cursed Lucius as he set his jaw firm, tapped his helmet on his head and stepped forwards again, the muttering of the soldiers making his own heart suddenly skip a beat. “Do it man” he said before a voice caused him to turn back to the Gauls.

  “Roman” came the call from the river, the shouting man’s eyes flashing as the sunlight danced off the river around him, the flashes making him appear to shimmer. Sulpicius had a flash of insight. He was their druid. He was using this trick to strike a moment of fear into the hearts of his men.

  “Roman” called the man again as he whirled his cloak off his shoulders to reveal his naked body, red welts covering the majority of his torso. The effect on the younger men of the front ranks was just as he expected, gasps and muttering rising from the ranks before the officers called their men to silence. The Gaul had thrown his cloak to the floor and waded to his knees into the water.

  “What trickery is this Gaul?” called Sulpicius as he stepped forward of his front line, several thick shouldered men stepping next to him, their eyes straining into the sunlight to watch for any sudden movement by the Gauls.

  “I call on the spirits of the land, the spirits of the river, the spirits of the trees. Teutates you have brought us here to this place. A place you have chosen to appease the gods for the lies and deception of the Roman Quintus Fabius” he called as the Romans shifted uneasily at the words. “This place will give victory to our people, the great Senones. Dis-Pater I call on you to accept the blood of the willing” he said, whirling around and appearing to strike the horse, which had been led to stand placidly in the water beside him, across the neck in a blur. A mist of blood sprayed from the neck of the beast as more gasps and calls came from the Romans watching, the man had slain a beast with his bare hands some shouted. “A life for a life Romans” called the druid as the horse fell into the river, the red flow spreading around his legs before it started to move deeper into the fast-flowing water. “Give us Quintus Fabius now and we will return to our homes to choose a suitable punishment for a man who has broken the oath of nations” he called as he spread his hands wide.

  Sulpicius heard the movement of men behind him and twisted to see the lines beginning to thin as they spread across the valley from the river towards the hill. He nodded to himself as he turned back to face his own men, turning his back on the druid. The officers busied themselves calling to the soldiers as they quickly split their lines and started to spread across the ground, each legion moving as quickly as their training would allow. The centre of the valley was suddenly four rows of bristling spears, coloured shields and bright bronze armour shining back at him as the tribune nodded his head with pride.

  “Men of the glorious city of Rome” he called. “The law has recorded that Quintus Fabius was right to accept the role of defender at Clusium. You now this. We have nothing to fear from these Gauls. You are the greatest fighting men in the world, conquerors of Veii. Our armour is stronger, our discipline and tactics are beyond their comprehension, and” he raised his voice to his strongest shout “we are braver than these dogs.”

  The cheering of the men made his heart leap in his chest as the men bashed their spear shafts against their shields and screamed “for Rome” at the top of their lungs, some of the men seeming to come towards him as if to lift him in triumph before the battle had even been won. He caught a yell and a sudden movement as one of the guards toppled forwards with a small axe buried in his face, the body falling silently as the Roman’s cheering came to an abrupt halt. He whirled, about to scream defiant hatred at the Gauls, but gasped as the face of the silent druid leered in front of his vision. He gaped as his arms fumbled for his sword, still sheathed, his fingers trying to grip the fine bone handle. The druid had moved silently, had closed the gap from the river almost unseen by all the guards and was now, teeth bared and mid-leap, falling on Sulpicius as the Roman Tribune managed to draw his sword. It was too late. The blood-soaked heathen smashed into him and the curved knife sliced across his throat.

  ************

  Chapter 7

  As the Roman had turned his back on Aengus Brennus had stepped forwards and nodded to Mantinus, his eager face beaming as he hefted the two war axes, wrapping the bindings across his wrists before stepping forwards and calling to his men.

  Brennus leant forward on his horse, his brow creased as he watched the scene in front of him. Aengus had moved to the bank, blood trailing from his hands which he had dug into the horse’s neck before the two men with him had turned and charged at the Roman lines, each man producing their throwing axes and launching them into the guards around the Roman leader. The man was too busy listening to the cheering of his own soldiers to notice the sudden movement of the Gauls and the loss of two of his bodyguards before Aengus, the wizard that he was, had leapt onto the man, the red spray of death causing a great cheer from the Gauls. Whilst this was happening Mantinus had set off at a charge with his five hundred strong attack. The affect was startling. The proud Romans nearest to their leader had already raised a loud gasp of despair and some had taken a step backwards. His eyes moved to the river and he prayed for the water spirits to give them strength as he watched Aengus land next to the body of the Roman leader and put his foot on the man’s dead chest as he roared death at the front line of thousands of Roman soldiers, their long spears waving as faces turned to each other unsure what to do.

  Brennus waved to Belinus on his left and called to the remaining leaders. He had seen the Romans thinning their lines and moving to the hill with the horse and the reserves. “Warriors” he screamed. “There” he sh
outed as he pointed his hammer at the hill. “Brother, I want you to smash that hill” he screamed. “I will take the centre” he added as he noted the agreement in his brothers’ eyes. “The Romans will move their men towards the higher ground Belinus. If we can take the centre and split their forces”, he licked his lips as he stared at the mile-long stretch of Romans “we can push half into the river and the others will be on the hill.” He let his eyes casually wander along the line. “Denorix” he said as a tall, thin, Gaul nodded from his mount, his long sword drooping from his hand. “Take your horse and swing below the hill then angle right and across the warriors to hit the weaker side of the Romans by the river. If they try to cross the sacred water” he made a clicking sound with his throat which brought a smile to the clan-leaders face. “Bellosenos” he added as his calm voice remained the focus of attention. The short man, his shoulders as wide as a cart, nodded as he stepped closer. “Bring the men on foot in at a trot behind my warriors. If the Romans hold that line” his eyes moved to the centre “I want every one of your ten thousand shields to hit them along the centre and to split them” he added as his eyes and those of Bellosenos looked along the centre of the Roman defence. “You must keep pushing them towards the river on the right” he said. “I will hit the centre and wheel to the left and support the attack on the hill.” He scanned the eager warriors around him. “Dumarix” he said, his voice calm and slow as an older man, streaks of grey in his beard and hair stepped forwards. “Bring the reserves to the centre. Watch for the break and send support to the area we break first. Understand?” he asked as he watched the first warriors hit the Roman line ahead of him.

  “Yes, Leader” came the cool reply.

  “Then it is time to win glory” Brennus said. “Woe to the Romans” he smiled and thrashed his legs into his mount. The ground shook with the thunder of his whole army as it charged like a single beast, screaming death at the Romans.

  ************

  The druid had landed and quickly thrust a second blow into the neck of the Roman before standing and putting a foot on his bronze clad chest, screaming to the gods and spitting at the long line of spears that were facing him no more than fifteen paces away. The last of his henchmen was gripping the sword of the Roman guard who had managed to spit him with his blade, the Gaul holding on to the man by the shoulders and smiling at him whilst calling on his ancestors to accept his spirit as he gripped his assailant’s arms and hugged him in a vice-like grip. The Roman was screaming at the Gaul to release him before his voice was silenced by a slick movement from behind. Aengus turned and crouched as the Roman fell to the floor, his eyes stared with feral hatred at the Roman line, every man in front of him showing a sudden fear at the death of their commander and his bodyguards, despatched in less than twenty seconds.

  “Death” screamed Aengus as the first few Romans stepped back nervously as he swayed from side to side.

  “Stand” roared the voice of Quintus Fabius as he stepped up to the front line, roughly pushing through the quavering soldiers. “Stand you men of Rome. Stand” he yelled again as the ground began to shake as thousands of Gauls streamed across the ground in front of him. Tricostus appeared at his shoulder, his eyes wide with fear and shock.

  “What do we do?” he whimpered with a look at the dead body of Sulpicius as Quintus drew his sword and moved in front of the line. “Hold the line, don’t change a thing” he bawled as he turned and roared at the half crouched naked man in front of him. Aengus smiled back at him, one hand on the floor, the other holding the curved blade out in the air to his right.

  “Just keep the line strong while I deal with this” Quintus said as he strode forward, his shield coming to the fore as he crouched and placed his sword along the side of his shield, eyes locked on the druid.

  The Gallic war horns blared long, grating, notes as the men raced across the ground, Mantinus and his five hundred now only fifty paces from the centre line of the Romans, the more eager warriors already reaching the Roman lines and losing their lives to the wall of spears. The Roman line shifted slightly at the sudden charge from the Gauls, the screams and the blaring of the horns causing many of the younger men to shift nervously, their older peers pushing them from behind and cajoling them to remain strong.

  Quintus stepped forwards and curled his lip, his sword scraping along the side of his shield as he moved the blade up and down without taking his eyes off the druid. Yells came from behind him encouraging him to kill the mad man quickly and he grinned, his senses coming alive as they always did in battle. The druid didn’t flinch, didn’t move an inch, as he approached. The man remained motionless watching him as a cat would watch its prey, the eyes the only thing that seemed to move as the glint of light from the river and the thundering of feet racing towards them disappeared into the background, all sounds and all sensations vanishing as he approached the druid.

  Aengus slipped right, his hand remaining on the floor as if he was some three-legged monster, his eyes wide and focussed, his short curved blade steady and held high above his head.

  Quintus grunted as he took three quick steps and lunged at the figure, the curved blade slicing down as he clashed his shield forwards, narrowly stopping the blade from slicing into his arm as the druid retreated several steps in a heartbeat. Quintus didn’t stop, he ran forwards to take the initiative as the druid whispered some strange words as his body wriggled away, his shoulders seeming to roll like a wave before he fell forward and dived to Quintus’ left, the druid’s body hidden momentarily behind the screen of his shield. He lunged, feeling the blade fall into an empty space before he hissed and gasped as he felt the blade slice his forearm. He yanked his arm back and saw that the druid was crouched, again, five steps ahead of him, his eyes staring into his, one hand on the floor the other holding the blade aloft in the air. A blur ran past him, then another. The Gauls were hitting the centre line to his right, the river now only twenty yards to his left, and Quintus suddenly realised that he had been pulled fifteen or more steps ahead of the Roman defenders, alone except for the druid who stared at him but did not flinch. For the first time in his life Quintus felt a pang of fear, a cold sweat dripped onto the back of his neck and he bit his jaw together tight as he breathed rapidly through his clenched teeth. Aengus flinched, Quintus stepping back quickly as a slow grin appeared on the druid’s face. Quintus felt more Gauls racing past him, all ignoring every move he and Aengus made. So, this was it. This was the Gauls plan. To get him into a single combat. Well, he would die fighting.

  The noise of the battle disappeared again as Quintus levelled his sword and nodded to the druid and tuned all his senses onto the naked man crouched in front of him. He roared and threw himself forwards, the movement still too slow for the druid but making him retreat swiftly as his eyes widened and his muscles tensed as he shifted in his three-legged crouch to the right, leaving room for Quintus to swipe his short blade at the man. His curved blade wafted past Quintus’ arm as the druid grunted and scrambled away, his legs a blur of motion but his blade hand and head steady as he shifted quickly across the ground. Quintus didn’t give up, he hefted the shield and thrust it at the crouched figure, the naked torso leaning backwards and a hand grabbing the rim of the circular shield as the druid applied force to the top of the wooden shield and launched an attack at Quintus’ right hand. Quintus knew instantly that the druid was trying to disarm him, to take him alive, and he grinned wickedly at the thought that this could be his weapon against this manic barbarian. He stood as the blade flashed past him again and twisted quickly to throw the shield at the Gaul, the wood thudding into the man’s shoulder as he tried to turn his body back after the dagger swipe. The impact knocked the man onto his left side, his head turning rapidly to stare at him as Quintus launched his own body at the prone form, his eyes still watching the blade as it cut back in an attempt to stab into Quintus’ ribs.

  He was inside the strike and his own blade was now thrusting at the man’s neck as he fell forwards. He
felt the curved Gallic blade slice into the back of his sword arm as his own blade crashed into the floor as the druid had somehow rolled onto his back and used his legs to push Quintus away from him so that his sword strike went wide. The druid was already rolling to his feet and moving, stepping back in and using his legs to grip Quintus and drag his struggling body onto the floor.

  Quintus screamed, hearing a hoarse laugh from the druid as he fell to the floor and winced at the flare of pain he felt across the back of his arm. A quick look showed a thin line of blood, but he flicked his arm and knew that he wasn’t hurt badly. He returned his gaze to the druid, who had stood and moved back, then, once again, crouched with his arm aloft and a look of hunger in his eyes. Quintus was now staring at his own army, the centre line holding but the right flank, as he looked at it, near the river, already buckling. To his left thousands of Gauls were streaming up the hill and as he stared in disbelief, he saw daylight appear in the Roman lines, the army was being forced into two. As his eyes opened wide at the sudden movement, he had to drag his body backwards as Aengus took advantage of his sudden pause and launched an attack at him, his curved dagger thrumming across his chest as he made to parry the attack but was too slow. The druid kicked at his knee as the dagger sliced across him, his arms and legs seeming to work independently as Quintus grunted and shuffled to his right to try to get his back to face the Romans. Aengus laughed, the high-pitched bark causing Quintus to grit his teeth and take several deep breaths. The pain in his arm seemed to be growing and a sudden light-headedness came to him as the druid crouched once again, his left hand on the floor and right, up in the air.